Turning the Tide
by Merthin
Summary: As soon as the summer holidays after his fifth year at Hogwarts begins, Harry Potter is pulled back into adventure. What are the consequences, when he shows compassion for an aspiring Death Eater in distress?


**Summary:**

As soon as the summer holidays after his fifth year at Hogwarts begins, Harry Potter is pulled back into adventure. What are the consequences, when he shows compassion for an aspiring Death Eater in distress?

**Note:**

My first attempt at creative writing. I'd appreciate your feedback!

* * *

**Chapter One**

It was the first day of the summer holidays. Harry stood ready by the door of the bus, anxious to step out and get started. With a sudden lurch, the Knight Bus came to a halt, which could have made Harry fall over, had he not anticipated it. Then, the doors folded and opened with a swoosh. Harry stepped out, and before the doors had fully closed shut behind him, the bus had already started accelerating again, wasting no time to continue towards its next stop.

* * *

After almost half an hour, he gave up. He felt as though he had checked the spine of every book on the second floor of _Flourish and Blotts_, and though he had picked two books whose titles had piqued his interest ("Applied transfiguration in Defense and Combat", and "27 magnificent duels"), he had not found what he had been looking for.

Harry approached a middle aged witch who was rearranging a shelf. "Excuse me, I was wondering if you have any books on Occlumency?". The witch gave him a puzzled look. "Occlu.. pardon? I don't know if we have any books related to... that. I'm not familiar with the term, but I doubt you will find anything connected to it here. Sorry.". The witch turned her back away to face the shelf again and continued with her work, not minding him.

Harry walked down the stairs, dejected. He paid for the other books, and left the shop.

* * *

Diagon Alley was much less busy than usual. In the distance, Harry saw a new addition to the shops, the Weasley twin's joke shop _Weasley's Wizard Wheezes_, and there was clearly movement of customers in their shop. Otherwise, most shops seemed deserted. Nobody sat at Florean Fortescue's ice cream parlour, and Quality Quidditch Supplies was closed. He had never experienced Diagon Alley this way. Instead of the usual bustle, the few people out and about were in a hurry, and had their eyes cast down. This is what it meant for Voldemort to be back, he thought. And suddenly, he could see why so many in the wizarding world had rejected the very idea of his return, for as long as they could.

"You won't find what you're looking for on Diagon Alley", a grumbly voice spoke behind him. Harry spun around, his hand close to the wand in his pocket. An old man had come up a few feet behind him. His hair was long and grey, he had a bushy moustache like a walrus and his cloak was dusty. His hands were empty.

"And do you know where I might find what I am looking for?", Harry asked.

The man did not answer straight away, but moved his mouth and squinted his eyes. "What's your name, son?", he eventually asked.

Now it was Harry's turn to take a moment. "Neville. What's your name?"

The man responded with a grunt. "There is a second hand book shop not far from here. They might have the books you are looking for. That way"

Harry followed the man's finger and realised where he was pointing. Knockturn Alley.

"Good luck...", the man walked in the opposite direction, away from him, "... Neville."

* * *

Except for Harry, there was not a person in sight on Knockturn Alley. He scanned the shop names in search for a bookshop. Most of the windows were dark and he could only guess what any of the shadowy shapes inside were. As he passed one window, he thought he saw a dozen huge eyes follow him, but they vanished as soon as he turned to take a closer look.

Suddenly, one of the shop doors ahead of him opened. Quickly, Harry hid inside a bulky door frame. He wished he had taken his invisibility cloak with him. Should he cast a Disillusionment Charm on him? He doubted that the circumstances qualified sufficiently as an emergency. He just had to hope that he was unnoticeable enough. He heard a girl's voice.

"I'm old enough to join! I can make a difference"

"Be quiet", responded a wizard, "I don't doubt your commitment. But you are too young. The time to serve him will come. Until then, you should make the most out of your studies at Hogwarts"

The two figures were heading towards Diagon Alley. Harry took a breath in and pushed himself further back to avoid being visible. They were going to pass him any second now.

"Fine", the girl responded sharply, and sounded anything but. Harry could swear he had heard her voice before. Was she in his year at Hogwarts? "I'm just excited, father. That he is finally back. Soon everybody will bow to him, and mudbloods and half bloods and muggle lovers will get their judgement."

Harry could feel his blood boil, but he knew he had to stay calm. He could not respond. They had passed him now, and were moving away.

"I completely understand what you are feeling. We have waited for too long. It is natural to be impatient. But the Dark Lord is not in a rush, and neither should you be."

It sounded as though they were a few metres away now. Slowly, Harry moved forward, out of his cover. The man had a long black cloak, the girl wore a dark green cloak and had bright blonde hair that reached until her shoulders. She had sounded familiar, but he couldn't recognise her from her back. A moment later they were gone.

* * *

A few minutes later he had found the only book shop on Knockturn Alley. The name Wattkinns Rare Tomes was written in large, faded blue letters above the shopfront. Harry entered the shop. Inside, it was nothing like _Flourish and Blotts_. The ceiling was low, the floor was dusty, and the space between the densely filled shelves was hardly wide enough to fit a person. Everything was illuminated by a sickly pale yellow light, that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere simultaneously. The air was stale. Harry stepped forwards, scanning the titles, most of which were written in characters he did not recognise. Some looked Chinese, some were Arabic, and some, he thought, looked like Runes. It seemed as though Harry was alone in the shop. No other persons, not customers or shopkeepers, were visible. He reached a staircase at the end of the isle. _Second Hand Items_ was written on a sign with an arrow pointing downwards.

The basement was a single circular room about 20 feet across. The same even, unnatural light illuminated the bookshelves that were placed along the continuous wall. There was no evidence of categorisation. Everything seemed to have been placed more or less at random. Harry walked from shelf to shelf, scanning the titles. Most were in languages he did not know, and the few English titles jumped out at him in contrast. Halfway around the circle, Harry was starting to feel impatient. Was he really going to find what he was looking for? He had seen several books on potions, and a thin book titled _The Joy of the Cruciatus_, that had almost made him leave straightaway. Approaching the next shelf, he suddenly saw it. _Occluding the Mind_. Harry reached for the book. In his hands, the small book looked perfectly ordinary. Harry flicked through the pages and felt a tension he hadn't realised he had felt ebb away. This book was exactly what he had been looking for.

He came back up to the ground floor, wondering where he would find a shop keeper to pay. The answer was revealed right away, in the form of a tiny desk by the entrance. Harry was sure it had not been there when he entered. An ancient house elf sat at the desk.

"2 galleons please". The elf had a raspy high-pitched voice. A steep price - one could buy ten books at _Flourish and Blotts_ for half. Without a word, Harry reached into his pocket and handed the two gold coins to the elf.

* * *

Outside the shop, Harry turned to walk back to Diagon Alley. He had only walked a few paces, when he noticed a faint voice. It sounded like a girl was struggling in a side passage not far from him. Harry grabbed his wand and began to run towards the sound. The voice was screaming now and as he turned he felt a familiar coldness seep into him. On the floor lay a young witch, whimpering. Her wand lay a few feet from her.

Above her hovered the floating shape of a Dementor.

_"Expecto Patronum!"_

A brilliant silver stag burst from Harry's wand and charged towards the Dementor, pushing it away from the girl at once. Then, Harry noticed something odd. The Dementor wasn't just being pushed away by his Patronus. It almost looked like it was stumbling and losing his balance. He had never seen a Dementor move like this, except once, when...

_"Riddikulus!"_

Harry pointed at the Dementor, and it exploded with a loud crack, leaving only a small black wisp of smoke in its place.

Harry turned to the girl. Her face was turned to the ground. She was still whimpering, but she seemed otherwise unharmed. Harry breathed a sigh of relief. A real Dementor might have managed to give her the Kiss. Harry knelt down to touch her shoulder. She was shaking. "It's gone. You are safe now.", he said. Her crying was subsiding now and her breathing was normalising a bit. She seemed very familiar. "Are you injured?", Harry asked her. "Your wand is here".

She turned around slowly. Before he could see her face clearly, he realised who she was.

Daphne Greengrass. A Slytherin girl in his year. And the witch he had overheard only a short time ago.

Her face was red and puffy and there were still tears streaming down her face. She did not react to him at all. Without a word, Harry handed her the ash coloured wand. She took it slowly. "Chocolate.", Harry said. "You need chocolate, to recover from the Dementor's effect. Can you get up?". She seemed to be without a will of her own for the moment, and did not speak a word. Harry felt conflicted. She was an enemy, and yet in this moment she was hurt and vulnerable, and he couldn't help but feel compassion for her.

Nothing made Harry feel as afraid and cold as Dementors. It seemed that they had at least this in common.

* * *

They were sitting in a small muggle cafe. She was calmer now, after having almost finished a big mug of hot chocolate. The few muggles around them eyed them suspiciously from time to time, but Harry and Daphne didn't pay them any attention.

They both hadn't spoken a word since they left Knockturn Alley, and the silence was becoming increasingly uncomfortable for Harry. He was glad that she was evidently feeling better, and his attention was shifting back to his overall situation. He needed to get back to Privet Drive. And he was sitting in a cafe with a supporter of Voldemort. Before he realised what he was saying, he began talking. "It was not a real Dementor, you know. It was a Boggart. But it's very unusual to encounter them outside. They usually hide in abandoned cabinets..."

He stopped when he realised he was talking more for himself, than to her. He looked down, and took another sip of his hot chocolate.

"Thanks". Her voice was barely audible. Harry looked up and for the first time, she was looking at him. Her eyes were bright blue. He suddenly didn't know what to say.

"Of course. I'm glad you're ok", he said after a moment. She leaned back and seemed to think about what to say next. For the first time she seemed to have truly recovered. "I'm surprised you were in Knockturn Alley, Potter", she said. "I guess that is my luck."

After a moment, she added, "I'm also surprised you would save someone like me."

Daphne stared at Harry, combatively.

"I don't know what you mean", he replied.

"We don't exactly see eye to eye, do we?" she said.

"No, I suppose we don't. You support Voldemort."

Her face hardened. "The Dark Lord is the future. He will cleanse the world of mudbloods. He will return magic to purity."

"Funny, since he is a half blood just like me", Harry shot back.

She breathed in sharply, but did not respond. Harry could feel the anger rising in him, but he breathed in deeply and tried to seem calm. After another moment, Daphne got up, made direct eye contact for another uncomfortable moment, then turned to leave.

After a few steps, she turned to face him once more.

"Thank you for helping me today."

She paused.

"But it changes nothing."

And then she left.

* * *

The next days at Privet Drive, Harry began to study Occlumency in earnest.

_Occluding the Mind_ described Occlumency as a state of calmness and attentiveness. Only the calmly disciplined mind was able to observe and protect his mind from Legilimency, but this was only regarded as a footnote by the author. The real power of an occluded mind, Harry read, was a deep understanding a wizard or witch could gain of their own consciousness, and thereby a more intimate connection to magic. Harry struggled to picture, what this meant in practice, but he was determined to succeed.

He had started the summer with a profound sense of failure. He had been lying on his mattress, staring at the ceiling, covering himself in shame. He had failed his friends, he had failed Dumbledore, and of course, he had failed Sirius. His godfather, Harry was convinced, would still be alive, if he had not given up on Occlumency. And then, the possession. He had felt utterly consumed by pain.

And although he had been able to drive out Voldemort, an understanding began to grow in Harry. When he was overcome by the Dementors, he had poured himself into mastering the Patronus Charm, despite the odds. But he had failed to bring up the same motivation when it came to Occlumency. In the end, Harry had been lucky. It was not a skill that had expelled Voldemort. It was only an accident of his mother's protection and his own character that Voldemort could not endure.

For the moment, Voldemort had shut down the link between them. But if there was next time, Harry would be ready. He would be able to resist Voldemort not through luck or happenstance, but through his abilities.

He sat back down on the chair by his desk, _Occluding the Mind_ open in front of him. The book described Occlumency in theoretical terms, but stressed that any real proficiency could only be attained by practical training. Harry sat up straight, and pressed his wand on a large circular symbol on the page. Then, he put the book and his wand on the desk and closed his eyes. A calm androgynous voice spoke quietly to Harry. _Focus on your breathing_. Harry followed the flow of air tingling in his nostrils. He felt his belly rising, then falling. He paid attention to catch the first moment when the next breath started.

Invariably his mind would start to wander, but the book always seemed to know when to remind Harry to refocus his attention. It was as if the book was waiting to see if Harry could recover discipline by himself, but intervene if he was following a train of thought for too long. Occasionally the book would give him different instructions, such as counting his breaths, or simply listening widely to the sounds around him, and noticing what his attention was catching.

During the first days, his attention was interrupted by thoughts almost constantly. In particular, thoughts of Daphne Greengrass would often appear out of nowhere. Without warning, the look on her face as she left the cafe would appear randomly in his mind's eye. Or the way her cheeks were flushed when he first helped her get up in Knockturn Alley. When he realised that his mind was being pulled towards Daphne, Harry attempted to put the guidance from _Occluding the Mind_ into practice. First, he observed the fact that his mind was occupied with thoughts about Daphne. Then, he probed the thought itself. Where had it come from? As he had discovered, the thought would invariably disappear, leaving nothing but a faint afterimage that would soon be replaced by new thoughts rushing in. But often, it took him a long time to notice that he was lost in thought.

Sometimes he doubted if he was making progress at all. Every day he would spend hours in this way, occasionally feeling that he was able to experience complete calmness in his mind. But the feeling was usually fleeting and pierced by another thought or emotion. Still, after a week, he felt that he had perhaps gotten a bit faster at catching his attention being hijacked by thought, and that he could return to a feeling of calmness within a breath.

_Open your eyes. Take moments during your day to pay close attention to your mind._ With a quiet thud, the book closed itself.

Slowly, Harry got up from the chair. For a while, his attention remained diffused, and he seemed to be aware of everything and nothing simultaneously. He walked to his window and opened it. The sun was setting, casting the sky in a dramatic orange light.

Once again, he noticed the image of Daphne's face appearing in his consciousness. Harry thought about the paradox of feeling compassion for his enemy. He wondered, if she felt conflicted about it at all.

Harry sat back down at his desk, and reached for his quill and parchment. He had been meaning to write this letter for a few days now, and he was ready.

_Dear Professor Dumbledore,_

_Now that I have had time to reflect, I wanted to sincerely apologise to you for last year's events. Rather than trusting you, I realise now that I was consumed by anger and confusion. I regret that I did not study Occlumency earnestly, and that I endangered my friends, and the Order. And that Sirius paid the biggest price._

_I have been motivated to study Occlumency again, and I am determined to make progress._

_If you have a moment, I would appreciate a chance to speak with you. Your duel with Voldemort has been an eye opener. I don't know how I can defeat him. But I know that I must not fail. I would appreciate any advice you can give me._

_Sincerely,_

_Harry_

He read over the words again, suddenly feeling unsure if he should send it. Wasn't this just a nuisance for Dumbledore? Before he could think about it further, he walked to Hedwig's cage, opened it, and gave her the letter. Maybe nothing would come of it, but if there was a chance, he had to try.

* * *

An hour later, the door bell at number four rang. Harry, still in his room, moved to the door to listen. "You!" he heard Aunt Petunia gasp, after she opened the door. "Good evening, Petunia" said Dumbledore. "It has been too long since my last visit. I must say, your agapanthus are coming along nicely."

"I have come to speak to Harry", he continued. Harry opened his bedroom door and took a few steps down the stairs. "I'm here, Professor Dumbledore. Thank you for coming".

"Thank you for inviting me, Harry.", he turned to Petunia, "You do not mind if we have a little conversation upstairs?" She didn't respond, or showed any reaction at all. "Marvellous."

Professor Dumbledore looked around the smallest bedroom of the house with a pained expression. "Harry, for your upbringing, I am deeply sorry. You understand my reasoning. But I sincerely hoped that Petunia would make peace with her sister and invite you into her home. It is, I'm afraid, only another of my shortcomings."

Harry remained silent. There had been a time when he was angry, but that was in the past.

"Your room is a bit spartan, isn't it? Might I suggest a few alterations to your decoration?" and with a few flicks of his wand, he conjured up two velvet sofas, a small mahogany table and an ornamented teapot which immediately expelled fragrant smoke from its snout.

"I would have done the same, if I weren't limited by the underage magic limit, sir.", said Harry. "Indeed?", Dumbledore raised his eyebrows and smiled warmly. "With your father's proficiency in transfiguration, I have no doubt that it is well within your magic. Can I offer you a green tea Kit Kat?" his hand emerged from a pocket in his robes with a handful of chocolate bars wrapped in green foil. "I recently learned of these from a Japanese acquaintance."

Harry reached out and took one, and Dumbledore beamed. "Thank you, sir" - "You're quite welcome, Harry. Why, I believe this is the first time I managed to tempt you with one of my sweets", he said, then bit off a mouthful of the chocolate. Harry took hold of the tea pot and filled both cups. "Green tea from Northern India, Harry... I travelled to many countries when I was younger. I hope you will have the chance to do the same."

For a moment, they both sat in silence, sipping the tea and eating chocolate. Something had changed about Dumbledore, thought Harry. Or maybe he himself had changed. Whereas before, he had always been in awe of him, he felt that he could be less guarded around him now.

"Well, Harry, I must say I was pleasantly surprised by your correspondence today. I'm glad you felt that you could reach out and ask me for advice. What would you like to talk about?".

Harry looked down at his cup for a moment, then a question appeared in his mind. He had not thought about it before. "Actually, sir, I just realised that I did use magic this summer. It was an emergency. But I never received a warning. I wonder why."

Harry continued telling the tale from the beginning, and Dumbledore listened attentively. He had a thoughtful look when Harry described how he had been led to the Occlumency book. And Harry thought that he looked pleased when he had finished describing the encounter with Daphne Greengrass.

"You continue to surprise me, Harry. You really are a remarkable boy." Dumbledore turned his head to look at the Occluding the Mind. Silently, he flicked through the pages. "You are in good hands with this guide. I am sure it will serve you well." He placed it back on the table.

"As for your use of underage magic, I do not believe that you need to worry. The Ministry will have recognised the defensive nature of your spells and decided not to pursue it. I dare say, their priorities have changed."

"Do you think I did the right thing? To help her?"

"Of that I have no doubt, Harry. For her sake, and for yours. Compassion, love, even for an enemy, these powerful forms of magic are a strength you possess."

"And", Dumbledore added after a moment, "she is young. You were right not to condemn her"

"Well, she made it very clear whose side she was on".

"Undoubtedly her allegiance is strong. But it is always possible that compassion can be the first spark that light the fire of doubt. Well, perhaps these are just the hopes of an old man, Harry. But you chose to do the right thing, of that I have no doubt."

Dumbledore reached for the tea cup and refilled both cups.

"Your message today had the most fortunate timing. I was in fact embarking on an adventure this evening, and I believe I could benefit from your assistance. It was already my attention to mentor you more closely this coming year. I realise that your summer holidays have only just begun. But perhaps you do not mind some additional out-of-term assignments?"

Harry smiled. "Of course not, professor."

"Wonderful. You see, when I was temporarily absent from Hogwarts, I have begun probing Voldemort's past, hoping to devise a strategy for his defeat."

Harry nodded, eager to hear more.

"And that will involve me in some way?" Harry recalled the words of the prophecy in his mind. _But He Will Have Power the Dark Lord Knows Not._

"Yes", replied Dumbledore, "but you will not face him alone. Voldemort has indeed marked you. You will be crucial, but the Order, your friends and your comrades will be by your side. And of course, I myself hope to provide some assistance as well."

"This year, we will make our preparations to defeat Voldemort, or Tom Riddle, as we should call him. He has made certain preparations that have allowed him to escape death when you reflected his Killing Curse. Tonight, we shall attempt to unmake one of these. I will explain more in due course."

Dumbledore finished his tea and rose from the conjured sofa.

"Do you have your wand on you?"

Harry got up as well and answered, "I am ready, sir".

"Then let us not lose any more time. You are yet to learn apparition, I believe? With your permission, let me take both of us to our destination."

He held out his arm and Harry instinctively went to hold it. Suddenly Harry felt as though they were being squeezed through a thin tube. The world surrounding the invisible tube blurred until a second later they expanded again with a quiet pop.

They had landed on an overgrown grassy field, in front of a tiny run-down house that was cast in the pale light of the half moon. "You must promise me to be vigilant, and to follow my orders without question." Dumbledore said quietly but firmly.

"Of course, sir. Where are we, sir?"

"This house belonged to the Gaunts, and old family line connected to Salazar Slytherin"

Dumbledore talked whilst approaching the house slowly. Under the shine of Dumbledore's Lumos spell, the house revealed more of its dilapidation. Several large chunks of the roof were missing.

"When we are back at Hogwarts, I will share a collection of memories with you that I have gathered of those whose paths have crossed Tom directly or indirectly. It is through those that I know that Tom came here the same age that you are now and killed his grandfather."

Not for the first time, Harry saw himself confronted with the parallels between Tom Riddle's past and his own life.

Dumbledore now stood in front of the front door and closed his eyes whilst muttering incantations and moving his wand in a careful, proving manner. Harry could only guess what was going on and assumed that Dumbledore was analysing and breaking any wards or curses that Voldemort had left behind. He closed his eyes as well and concentrated on if he felt anything, but even after a few minute nothing seemed out of the ordinary to him.

"Ah, I believe that is all.", Dumbledore pronounced finally. "How did you know there were wards?" Harry asked, "I couldn't feel a thing"

"That is hardly surprising Harry. It takes practice and knowledge of wards, runes and curses to develop an intuition for these things. I have no doubt that you could become sensitive to them. Now, shall we go in?"

The door opened with a sharp creak. Inside, several puddles of water glistened in the light from Dumbledore's wand.

"I believe that Tom left a cursed object here, a ring that he stole from his grandfather. If we destroy it, we will weaken Tom as well."

They began searching. The first two room was barren but for the rain water, the second one contained a small kitchen and a table on which an enormous rat sat and stared at Harry. The third room had a tiny bed and a cabinet. "I believe we are getting closer, Harry". This time, he too could feel something. "It feels almost as though he is here", Harry said quietly. "In a manner of speaking, he is, Harry. Be very careful." With a swish of his wand, Dumbledore opened the top drawer of the cabinet at the other edge of the room. Harry could see it immediately.

There was a golden ring with a shiny black stone looking at Dumbledore and Harry from the drawer. Harry knew immediately that this was the object they had come for. The ring was calling to them, in a voice that Harry found all too familiar. In the corner of his eyes, Harry saw Dumbledore move slowly towards it. He felt the pull too, and wondered if he should take the ring before Dumbledore could reach it. Harry thought the ring would suit him much better.

He made a few steps towards the cabinet levelling with Dumbledore. The ring's pull got stronger still. Why should we destroy it? Harry wondered, as he took another step towards it, in sync with Dumbledore on his side. We have to destroy it, to defeat Voldemort, Harry reminded himself and for a moment the pull weakened. Then, it came back stronger still. His scar hurt and he had to press his eyes shut from the pain. Suddenly this feeling reminded him of Snape's Legilimency attacks, like an assault on his mind. It would all be much easier to give in and put on the ring, Harry thought. But why? Didn't we come here to destroy the ring? Harry opened his eyes and saw that Dumbledore was only a moment away from taking the ring, when he realised what was happening. "Professor, no!" He shouted, "we didn't come here to take it, we came here to destroy it." For a moment, Dumbledore paused, and Harry could see that Dumbledore was determined to put on the ring. "I never dreamed I would find the stone. Just for a moment I can put it on, Harry", he said slowly. His hand was now hovering only an inch above the ring.

Harry reacted on instinct.

_"Petrificus Totalus"_

His wand was pointed at Dumbledore, and the professor froze and fell. Harry could feel anger and hate emanating from the ring. Pain pulsed through his scar, as though his head was being split in two.

"Sorry professor", Harry gasped, "but I didn't think the ring matched your robes very well." Slowly, with one hand raised to his burning head, he walked towards the drawer and pushed it closed. Harry could feel the ring's pull weaken. He cancelled the spell on Dumbledore and helped him up. "Sorry, sir."

"Apologies are not necessary. Are you unharmed?"

Harry rubbed his forehead slowly and shut his eyes tight. "Just my scar, sir."

Dumbledore looked at him with concern, but didn't say anything for a moment.

"You might very well have saved my life, Harry. Thank you. I did not expect to be so tempted tonight. But then again, I did not expect it to contain the stone..."

But Dumbledore's words started to sound distant to Harry and his vision became blurry. He saw Dumbledore move quickly towards him before the world dropped away.


End file.
